Where is the complication?

Once, a long time ago, I read a part of John's gospel to a small child. She can't have been more than 4. She might have been 2 or 3. I was reading this story to her because I had to read it for life group, and she wanted a story... two birds, one stone. So I read to her. Sadly, I can't remember what I read. I finished, and paused. John is not straightforward. At least, not to me. We sat in silence for a moment, and then I commented, 'That was complicated!' And she paused, and then said, without any trace of rudeness, 'No, it wasn't.' So I asked her to explain it to me. And she did; she told me exactly what had happened in the story. She was right, it wasn't complicated at all. I was.

I was reminded of the person I once was, who took a Ridley class on Revelation. I sat patiently through the discussion of how this letter might have come to have been written. There were many, many theories. Complicated things, none of which I can remember.

I raised my hand. "Is it possible that 'John ... [was] on the island of Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus ...[and] on the Lord’s Day... was in the Spirit, and ... heard behind [him] a loud voice like a trumpet, which said: “Write on a scroll what you see and send it to the seven churches...'"

Sometimes I feel that life is very complicated. I wonder if it is. Or whether we are.